


Love Yourself -- Outtakes

by imnotinclinedtomaturity



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:26:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity
Summary: a collection of deleted scenes, spoofs, and prequels to my fic "Love Yourself", because apparently even when fics are hundreds of thousands of words long, there isn't room for everything.Ratings, timestamps, and warnings will be posted before each chapter, as well as credit for prompts if relevant. I'm always open to listening for prompts for this collection, but 1) I will only write things I see as canon in the ly-verse (unless it's a clear joke) and 2) I can't promise how quickly I'll get to it.





	1. Skinny Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **timestamp:** read anytime  
>  **prompt:** i kinda picture ly dan a little slimmer than real life dan don’t get me wrong i love dan’s soft tummy and stuff but i like to picture ly dan living alone sometimes forgetting to eat, mentally and physically drained from touring and also kinda looking out sometimes on what he eats cause awful paparazzi are making him self conscious  
>  **words:** 374  
>  **warnings:** not always healthy eating habits

Late one Tuesday morning, Dan comes into Beans & Grind looking particularly tired and ragged. Phil scans him up and down, taking in the way his sweater hangs a little too loosely, the way his eyes have particularly dark shadows under them.  
  
  
“You okay?” Phil asks, trying to mask the concern in his voice. Dan doesn’t like it when Phil gets too worried.  
  
  
Dan shrugs, not quite looking Phil in the eye. “Been better,” he says evasively. His eyes flicker over the menu, more out of habit than anything – he already knows what he’s going to order. “Long night, s’all.”   
  
  
“Ah,” Phil agrees knowingly. From instagram and twittter, private DMs and text messages, Phil is well aware of how late Dan can stay up sometimes. Over the past few months, Phil’s learned a thing or two about Dan. He’s learned how Dan sometimes gets so tired he can’t sleep. He’s learned that Dan sometimes gets caught up in his music and neglects himself. And, unfortunately, he’s learned that Dan sometimes hyper-focuses on the paparazzi and the way they portray him. He’s learned that sometimes, especially after a particularly candid picture ends up in the media, Dan gets really self conscious.  
  
  
And sometimes, when Dan is tired or caught up in his music or feeling particularly self conscious, he just… doesn’t eat. Never to an extreme level, never so much that Phil _really_ worries that it might be a lasting problem. But just enough that he doesn’t quite eat dinner every now and again, whether it’s because he was simply tired or caught up and forgot, or because he was self conscious and made a slightly more active choice.  
  
  
All the same, as Phil looks Dan over, he can tell that last night was probably one of those nights. Most likely the _forgot_ kind, given how exhausted he looks. Regardless, Phil wordlessly goes over to the display counter and pulls out not one, not two, but _three_ different types of muffins, setting them all down in front of Dan.  
  


“Eat,” he says simply. “You look like you need it.”  
  
Dan’s gaze flickers between the muffins and Phil, anxious for a moment but then _melting_. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I think I forgot about dinner last night.” ****


	2. Bees (300 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **timestamp:** read after chapter 24  
>  **warnings:** crack, bees, death?  
>  **note: this is a joke.** i wrote this for my lovely gc friends after many many jokes of "death by bees" for isabella

Dan stared at his precious white roses that were now strewn across the floor, the crystal of the vase dangerously mixed in. Rage – pure, white hot  _rage_  – gripped at his soul, and he felt himself losing control.

He backed Isabella up, pushing her towards the lift. “Get out,” he mumbled gruffly. He jabbed the call button, and the doors opened. Without turning around, Isabella stepped backwards.

“Danny –” 

But whatever Isabella was going to say, Dan would never know. Just a moment too late, he realized that he the doors had opened, but the lift wasn’t there. There must have been a malfunction.

Dan watched as she tripped over the open air and then fell down, down, down the elevator shaft.

“Well, shit.” 

Hesitantly, Dan stepped forward, edging his way closer to the open elevator shaft. He peered down, unable to bite back his morbid curiosity. It was too dark to see anything, though; the shaft was just a pit of black darkness. 

Dan stepped backwards, planning to retire to bed with a glass of wine but was interrupted by a small buzzing noise. Suddenly, right in front of his face, was a singular bee. It seemed aggravated as it buzzed around, the buzzing growing louder and louder as more and more bees flew up the lift shaft. For a moment, Dan was seriously confused. And --  

And then he remembered the email from the maintenance crew – apparently a bees nest had been discovered in the bottom of the lift shaft earlier in the week and the email had urged everyone to be aware.

Apparently, it seemed that Isabella had fallen directly on top of the bees nest.


	3. Fame (863 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **prompt:** i truly believe that that newly famous dan was a fucking mess like being almost trampled by fans and paparazzi when his first single or album was a hit in uk or he won britts debut of the year (it totally happened lol) and he just went to the biggest mall in london just for a t-shirt or something i like to think popularity wise dan was kinda like ed sheeran but know he is more well established like brendon urie (like people know and love him but also aren’t so animalisticly excited)  
>  **warnings:** self-harm, anxiety, and depression references  
>  **timestamp:** pre-ly start (read anytime)

All he needed was a new pack of undershirts. Six fucking black shirts, that was it. He could have — probably  _ should _ have — ordered them online, but  _ noooo _ , he’d told himself it would be good to get out of the flat.

He hadn’t been outside (well, any further than his shitty little fire escape that doubled as a balcony) since he’d gotten home from the Brits three nights ago.

Since he’d  _ won _ a Brit Award for Best Breakthrough Artist. 

He was grateful — _so_ _fucking grateful_ — for the recognition, the exposure, the honor. For everything. In the past three days, tickets for his upcoming debut tour had _doubled_. The record company had already sent an email requesting to speak with him and his manager about extending his contract to cover an additional _three_ albums. Louise had texted him about adding a second night in New York and Los Angeles to his tour dates.

This is what he’d wanted. 

Sort of, anyway.

He’d wanted to not have to wait tables or work at shitty DIY stores to support himself. He’d wanted to be able to make his music — whatever music he wanted to make — and have people around the world hear it. He’d wanted to make music that impacted people’s lives.

And Dan was  _ doing _ it. 

He hadn’t had to find a new job after he’d been fired from his last one over six months ago. He had released an album that was one hundred percent his work; every single note and word were his own. And, as of three nights ago, he’d won an award that people had  _ voted _ for him to win.

But now, as he hid in a dressing room at Topman, curled up on a too-small bench so his trainers weren’t visible under the curtain, there was a small piece of him that wondered if this was truly what he wanted. His goals, his hopes, his dreams — they’d always been centered around music. Centered around making music and sharing music. As he slowly started to gain listeners, then fans, then  _ fame _ , he never focused on the idea of  _ popularity _ . He never took a moment to consider what being a  _ celebrity _ would mean.

Hell, he never thought he would  _ be _ a celebrity.

Twenty minutes ago, though, he’d been recognized by a young teenager who was out shopping with his mum. That alone wasn’t too odd, though by no means was Dan  _ used _ to the occurrence. The boy — a boy who was realistically only five or six years younger than Dan, really — had been practically gushing as he told Dan how much Dan’s music had helped him, as he told Dan how the fact that Dan talked about real issues like depression and heartbreak in his songs  _ mattered _ to the boy. Dan, for his part, had spent the entire interaction on the verge of tears. It was one thing to read posts like this online, it was another to hear it in person. 

Dan had offered the teenager a selfie and a hug — it seemed like the least he could do all things considered. And while he’d held the teen close, he softly begged him to ask for help and stop leaving the marks on his wrists, marks that Dan could so plainly see when the boy’s sleeves dipped down. The teen had nodded fiercely against Dan’s shoulder, leaving behind a small wet patch on Dan’s dark jumper.

The interaction had been sweet and inspiring, albeit a bit triggering. Dan had walked away from it feeling like he was  _ doing _ something, though. He felt like he was a proper artist having a proper impact on people’s lives.

But then the kid had posted the picture on twitter — tagging both Dan and Oxford Circus.

And with the tags had come one, and then two, and then a dozen fans, all flocking to Dan, all asking for pictures and hugs and attention.

He’d tried to oblige, he really had. But the crowd grew and grew, and he was completely alone, and there was only  _ one _ of him for fuck’s sake. In every direction he’d looked, a camera phone had been angled towards him, capturing his every move, his every word. 

It hadn’t taken long for the line of fans to turn into a crowd, a full-on  _ mob _ with Dan at the center. All of the attention and cameras and people did nothing to quell Dan’s anxiety — and it  _ really _ didn’t help that he’d forgotten his medicine that morning. 

So Dan had run. He’d dropped the shirts he was holding and bolted around the corner, diving into one of the dressing rooms and pulling his feet off the ground so it looked empty. 

Out in the hallway, Dan could hear the poor workers fighting the crowd, could hear the store attendants trying to stop fans from bursting into the dressing rooms. Above their valiant efforts, Dan could hear throngs of teenagers chanting his name, begging for him to come out. His phone was vibrating non-stop next to him, his twitter notifications going bloody insane. 

It was too much. All Dan wanted was some fucking shirts.

  
  
  



	4. Pizza (1348)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from darling @mariitheredgirl: LY hc: DnP are eating pizza and Dan is having a fond moment describing how good the pizza is, cries in the first bite but Phil... Is not feeling it. Dan turns into a full drama queen and ask for a divorce, and all the dips. (totally not me the other day)  
> \--  
> marii told me she did this and was like lol imagine ly dnp and i was just like hngggg they are in new york rn it’s perfect. so i wrote this 1.3k gem just for you <3 this isn’t beta’d or even really edited so... sorry in advance for inevitable errors lol
> 
>  **timestamp:** ly chapter 30, somewhere in the middle if dan’s day was less busy  
>  **rating:** t (a hint of hinting at smut who knew pizza got me there ;) )  
>  **words:** 1348

“Come _on_ , Philip,” Dan huffed, tapping his foot impatiently and drumming his fingers against the hotel door handle.

The bathroom door was cracked shut, a beam of bright artificial light casting a glow over the dark entryway. “Chill out, Howell. You’ve got three hours before you have to be on set, you’re not going to be late!” Phil shouted through the door. “Not that that’s normally a concern for you…” he added quietly enough that Dan wagered he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“Hey!” Dan cried indignantly, shoving off the door and pushing into the loo.

Phil was leaning close into the mirror, meticulously spreading gel through his hair and styling his quiff. His eyes flitted to meet Dan’s in the mirror. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself, you know it’s true.”

“I — I’m not — I’m —” Dan sputtered. He swallowed thickly, leaning against the doorframe. “I am punctual _sometimes_ ,” he huffed.

Phil ran a final hand through his quiff before standing up, spinning around to face Dan. Without hesitation, his hands landed on Dan’s hips, tugging lightly. Dan stumbled forward, suddenly finding himself in Phil’s personal bubble.

 _Very_ much in Phil’s personal bubble.

The sudden closeness nearly knocked the wind out of Dan’s chest — he found himself struggling to take deep enough breaths for the oxygen to get to his brain, he found himself unable to look anywhere other than Phil’s icy blue eyes, he found himself incapable of forming coherent thoughts.

The only thing Dan could manage was a quiet giggle.

It shouldn’t affect Dan to be this close to Phil, not this much anyway. Not after _months_ of knowing Phil, especially now that they weren’t dancing around each other anymore. Hell, Phil had _fingered_ Dan and given him the best orgasm he’d had in months a few days ago. And now Dan was fucking losing it over some light hip-grabbing and close proximity.

Phil leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against Dan’s ear and doing absolutely _nothing_ to help Dan’s utter lack of control. “You’re never punctual, but I like you anyway,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear. The warm gust of air and the gentle slide of Phil’s lips on Dan’s skin sent a hot shiver down Dan’s spine, and he knew it was obvious how much Phil was getting to him.

“I _am_ punctual sometimes,” Dan protested weakly.

“Nuh uh,” Phil fought back, his lips shifting down to press a kiss to Dan’s neck.

“Uh _huh_ ,” Dan whined — well, _moaned_ more like, given the way that Phil’s lips were working their way towards his collarbone. “I was never so late to B ‘n’ G that I missed you,” Dan pointed out, his words coming out far too breathy to effectively carry any fight.

“But that made you late for _how_ many other things?” Phil murmured into Dan’s skin, his lips dragging further downwards, his teeth just barely scraping along Dan’s collarbone.

Dan’s breath caught in his throat, and he didn’t miss the smug giggle breathed against his skin when Phil inevitably noticed. “Fuck off,” Dan huffed. “I was distracted by the hot barista. Sue me.”

A warm heat dragged up Dan’s neck, from his collarbone all the way back up to his ear. “What are the odds you can get distracted by him right now? You don’t have to be on set for a while.” Phil nipped Dan’s earlobe suggestively, his fingers slipping under the hem of Dan’s shirt.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dan mumbled, fixating on the intoxicating feeling of Phil’s lips on his neck. Phil was right — Dan didn’t have to be at The Tonight Show for another three hours, and those hours could just as easily be spent in bed as anywhere else. They had two more days to explore New York together, today wasn’t important, he didn’t have to —

A low rumble from Dan’s stomach cut off his internal debate.

Phil pulled back, just far enough to be able to look Dan in the eyes. “Dick says yes, stomach says no,” he teased.

“ _Ugh_ , you _wanker_ ,” Dan whined.

“Mmm, if I recall _you’re_ the one who wanked in the shower this morning,” Phil responded cheekily.

“Actually _shut up_ , or I’m not taking you for the best pizza in New York.”

“Well if there’s pizza at stake, then I supposed we must go,” Phil mockingly conceded.

***

Half an hour later, Dan and Phil found themselves tucked away at one of the many hole-in-the-wall pizzerias claiming to have the _Best Pizza In New York_ , a large pizza and one of each dip on offer spread between them. Dan wasn’t sure if it was truly the best pizza or not, but in the few times he’d been to New York, it’d certainly been his favorite.

“Okay Philip,” Dan started seriously, “are you ready to have your life be fucking _changed_?”

“I’m _so_ ready,” Phil gushed with just as much sincerity.

Dan picked up a piece of pizza loaded with veggies and meat, and dipped it into the first of the sauces. “Prepare yourself, Philip.”

Phil picked up his own slice, following Dan’s lead and dunking it into the same sauce. Poised at the ready, he held it in front of his mouth, waiting for Dan’s signal.

Matching Phil’s pose, Dan brought his own slice up to his lips. “On the count of three,” Dan said.

Phil nodded once, deliberate and somber. “One,” Phil began, voice low.

“Two,” Dan counted, his tone echoing Phil’s.

“Three!” they said together, the gravity in their voices giving way to excited, boyish squeals. With mirrored smiles, they both immediately took a large bite out of their slices.

Eyes rolled back in pleasure, Dan collapsed forward onto his elbows, his slice of pizza dropping onto his plate. “ _Fuckkkkkkkkkkk_ ,” he moaned pornographically.

Beside him, Phil was silent. _Too_ silent.

Dan turned, expecting to see a blissed out look on Phil’s face as he appreciated the pizza. Instead, however, Dan found Phil staring blankly at his food, a small frown playing at his lips.

“ _What?_ ” Dan demanded harshly.

Phil didn’t say anything, though, merely glancing from Dan to the pizza.

“ _Philip. Michael. Lester._ ” Dan pointedly poked at the slice Phil had sat back on his plate. “What. Do you. Think.”

“It’s…” Phil started hesitantly. His gaze was trained on one of the dips, clearly refusing to look up at Dan, and not appearing to be willing to look at the pizza either. “Fine.”

“Fine!?” Dan cried, outraged. “ _Fine?!_ ”

“Yeah?” Phil answered tentatively, sounding slightly scared of Dan’s reaction. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not _okay_ !” Dan exclaimed. “It’s fucking _heavenly!_ ”

“It’s just kind of… floppy,” Phil said weakly. “And thin.”

“It’s New York style!” Dan shrieked.

“And is _New York_ running out of dough or something?” Phil whined back, for some ungodly reason having the fucking _audacity_ to sound as upset as Dan was.

Feeling utterly offended and indignant, Dan forcefully pulled Phil’s pizza away from him. “This is completely unacceptable. I demand a divorce.”

Much to Dan’s annoyance, Phil didn’t take Dan’s anger seriously — he laughed. _Laughed._

“A d-divorce?” Phil managed through giggles. “We’ve technically been dating, like, a week, Dan.”

A red-hot blush raced from Dan’s neck all the way up to the tips of his ears — he hadn’t meant to jump _that_ far ahead, even as a joke.

“Well — I — _fine_ ,” Dan scrambled, trying to maintain his cool. “I’ll date you long enough that you propose, marry you, and _then_ divorce you over your plebeian views of coffee and pizza.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed simply.

“Okay?” Dan cried back, still outraged. “What, you’re fine with condemning yourself to a divorce in three to five years?”

Phil narrowed his eyes, leaning in. “Well I’m hoping in that amount of time, you can teach me a thing or two about taste so we’ll change your mind,” Phil said lowly.

Phil’s response did _nothing_ to alleviate the warm flush on Dan’s cheeks. If anything, he just blushed _harder_. “You — I —” Dan stopped stuttering and took a massive bite of his pizza. “Shut up, Lester.”  


	5. Makeup - Phil POV (532 words)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in ly 32, from Phil's POV  
> written for anomalily who requested this moment from phil's pov for an ask game

Despite the fact that Dan had seemed to approvingly nod at his reflection, Phil watched as he made a quick beeline to his suitcase and dug out his toiletries kit. He also dug a few items — a long flat looking thing, some brushes, and some tubes — out of his backpack from today, and spread them all out in front of the mirror.

For a moment, Phil simply observed. Surely making a reservation could wait; this was _New York_ after all, there had to be a million suitable restaurants if the one he wanted was booked. Dan was gorgeous and had a glint of determination in his eyes that Phil was curious to find out where it would lead. Still though, Phil blindly tapped around on his phone, not wanting Dan to feel _watched_ , not wanted to be _that_ clingy boyfriend who gave his boyfriend zero privacy.

Phil watched as Dan ran mousse through his hair, pulling and tugging at the curls, seemingly forcing them into position. Biting his lip, Phil held back a giggle — it was clear that Dan was trying to arrange them in a particular way, but Phil honestly couldn’t tell the difference. Like always, Dan’s hair was a curly mop on his head, gorgeous but slightly messy. 

Glancing down, Phil finally typed _OpenTable_ into his browser, but was quickly distracted when he saw Dan sorting through all of the items from his backpack, opening the flat thing to reveal a mix of monochrome colors and fiddling with the brushes.

Makeup. Clearly, all the stuff Dan had pulled from his backpack was _makeup_.

The _thump thump thump_ of his own fast-beating heart echoed in Phil’s ears, happy and excited and curious. Phil watched carefully as Dan inspected the little tubes, opened and closed little pots, stared at the shades of black, white, and grey. 

Dan’s eyes glanced up in the mirror to look at Phil, and Phil quickly snapped his gaze down to his phone, hoping Dan didn’t realize that Phil was staring. As much as Phil was curious, as much as Phil wanted to support, he didn’t want Dan to feel like he was intruding on this moment. Or worse, Phil _really_ didn’t want Dan to become self-conscious and change his mind about anything.

A few seconds went by before Phil felt comfortable looking up again, and when he did, he found Dan staring intently at the greyscale colors, a fat brush in his hand. Dan pushed his sleeve up, swirled the brush in one of the colors, and swiped it across his wrist.

From where Phil was sitting, he couldn’t tell what color Dan had tested, but he could see the way Dan’s lips quirked up into the hint of a smile, the way his cheeks tinted pink. Dan seemed to stare at his arm for a minute before pulling a tissue out of the box on the desk and wiping the powder away.

With a small sigh, Dan closed the makeup and piled it all into his toiletry kit. 

_That’s okay_ , Phil thought. He knew Dan would explore the makeup in his own time. And Phil couldn’t wait to see what Dan tried. 


	6. Louise POV (629)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place during ly 32, louise's point of view.  
> written for anomalily for an ask box game

It’d been nearly two and a half hours since Louise had heard from Dan. He’d texted her on his way to the studio, supposedly just to “touch base.” Louise had know Dan since the were children, though, and she’d become something of an expert at realizing when Dan was lowkey freaking out about something. And he’d definitely been lowkey freaking out about the show.

On the rare occasion that Louise wasn’t by his side, it was unusual for Dan not to check in after anything work related. Louise did the math again, counting back the hours to figure out what time it was in New York, thinking through how long each part of the recording should have taken — and, yes, the recording should definitely be over by now. 

Curious and impatient (and maybe a _touch_ worried), Louise decided to take matters into her own hands and text Dan.

 **Louise [10:34PM]:** Hello darling, how did the filming go?

For a minute, Louise stared at the conversation, hoping to see the three little dots that meant Dan was typing. Nothing came, though, and Louise made herself tap out of their conversation so she didn’t drive herself crazy waiting; maybe Dan had to meet with the producers after the taping.

Forty-five minutes passed as Louise got ready for bed, and there was still no response from Dan. With every minute that ticked by, Louise found herself growing more and more anxious, worried that Dan’s lack of response was a sign that the interview hadn’t gone well. 

It didn’t help that Darcy was already asleep and Tom was out with some lads from work — leaving Louise with no one to distract her from her fears. Hoping that another message would prompt Dan to respond, Louise texted Dan again. Biting her lip, Louise tried to figure out what to say; she didn’t want to sound too worried; that might result in just working Dan up if he wasn’t already nervous. 

**Louise [11:18PM]:** Any plans for tonight?

Again, Louise stared at her phone, anxiously waiting to see if Dan would respond. Hell, at this point she’d even settle for a read receipt. 

But nothing came.

This time, Louise didn’t even make it twenty minutes before she texted him again. Still not wanting to come across too worried, Louise opted for something light and teasing.

 **Louise [11:35PM]:** You better have a good excuse for not responding to your best friend and manager…

 **Louise [11:36PM]:** Like finally getting laid ;)

Once again, there was no response from Dan; Louise’s surprise and indignation was quickly waning. As she crawled into bed half an hour later,, Louise sent Dan another text.

 **Louise [12:02AM]:** Judging from your lack of response, I’m going to assume you won’t remember to tweet the show. I’ll post something from your account to remind your audience to tune in!

 **Louise [12:02AM]:** I hope you’re having fun btw :)

Switching her phone to loud mode and setting it on her nightstand, Louise settled in to watch the telly until Dan’s interview aired. Her nerves about the show had calmed down quite a bit — if it was a disaster, surely Dan would have called to discuss damage control by now.

Besides, she’d gone over his talking points with him a million and one times, and she knew Dan had been well ready for the interview. Dan was passionate and prepared and crazy educated on his chosen talking points. 

Whatever he said, Louise was confident that he’d be phenomenal. Tonight was a big step for Dan, but he was ready. Dan was finally free; he could finally _breathe_ in public, could finally be himself, and be unapologetic of who he was.

And Louise couldn’t wait to see him live his truth. 


End file.
